


The Uninvited Dominatrix

by theredheadinadress



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:06:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1317586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredheadinadress/pseuds/theredheadinadress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irene Adler turns up uninvited to John and Mary’s wedding reception to make sure the great Consulting Detective has at least one dance, and ends up scarring the elder Holmes in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Uninvited Dominatrix

'It feels good to be back in London.' Irene thinks as she steps out of the taxi and pays the driver.  
It had been far too long since she's been able to be herself without a disguise and wander through her home city. She's pulled her hair into a simple updo, not as intricate as her dominatrix hairstyle had been. She didn't want to upstage the bride. However, Irene didn't even have to try, in the mauve long sleeved dress she was in, she would turn heads. 

He notices her a few minutes after she slips into the room where John and Mary’s reception is being held. People are dancing and marginally drunk and so she goes unnoticed for a moment. However, she hasn't even bothered with a disguise and Sherlock notices as soon as he turns around and scans the room. Without a second thought he crosses the room purposely and grabbed her arm. What is she doing here? She feels his presence from behind bet immediately and she has to work hard to maintain her current facial expression when she feels his hand tighten around her sequinned arm and his warm breath on his neck.  
"What are you doing here?" Sherlock growls.  
"Misbehaving." She smirks in response, whirling around to face him, forcing him to let go oh his hold on her.  
"It's not safe." He whispers and she noticed a hint of concern in his eyes.  
They're standing far too close to one another and his head dips to whisper his words in her ear.  
"Safe is boring." She retorts.  
"I didn't save your life for you to throw it away for some silly spectacle."  
Irene ignited his comments and continues on. "I he hard you didn't have a date. I needed to make sure you got at least one dance." With that she brings his hand to her hip and pushes him back towards the dance floor. He instantly brings his other hand to grasp hers and bites back a smile.  
After a moment of silence whilst they slip into the dance she opens her mouth again. "I'm tired of running." She whispers. "I'm not meant to be caged."  
"Hmm." He muses.  
He still can't believe that she's here. The Woman, is in his arms at his best friend's wedding, she's actually here in London. The feelings he's locked away since Montenegro begin to come flooding back and he tries not to dwell on them. When he'd left her hotel room nearly a year ago, he'd known that he was leaving for good, he would be returning to his life back in Baker Street, a life The Woman could not be a part of. Yet, here she was, back in his arms as if they were back in the Presidential Palace in Paris on New Years. He shook himself out of reminiscence and anger suddenly replaced all emotion on his body. How dare she return and risk her life after everything...

John is too entranced in his own dance with Mary that he's oblivious to the arrival of The Woman. Indeed it isn't until Mary's own eyes bulge and she drops her hand from his that he realises something's happened.  
"What is it?" John asks. "Is it the baby?" He adds slightly worried.  
Mary smiles and shakes her head. "Sherlock." She responds, forcing John to turn around and search out how friend among the crowd. Johns own eyes widen at the sight Mary points to. Sherlock Holmes, the self proclaimed sociopathic consulting detective is dancing with a woman. More precisely, The Woman. The supposedly dead, ex-dominatrix that manipulated Sherlock was here at his own damn wedding, dancing with the said detective.  
"What is she doing here?" John growls, anger flooding through him.  
she didn't even have the decency to wear a disguise! John stalks over towards the other couple, fuming with anger and Mary trailing behind him, curious at who the woman is. However, before John can utter a single word Irene gets in first. "Not dead." She says and Sherlock instantly drops his arms from her as his best friend approaches.  
There's a momentary nervous silence before John bursts out laughing. "That's exactly what he said" he points at Sherlock. As an after thought he adds. "I'm not nearly drunk enough for this."  
He shakes his head and thrusts his finger at Sherlock. "Mycroft said she was dead!"  
"The dear detective saved me." Irene chirps in and John raises an eyebrow at the unexpected comment.  
"I faked her death in Pakistan." Sherlock shrugs.  
"And so you're alive." John turns to Irene.  
Irene is about to respond when Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Evidently." He breaths under his breath.  
John ignores Sherlock. "So there's a murder attempt, a sociopath and a supposedly dead Dominatrix at out wedding?" He says it a tad too loudly, making several older guests turn and gasp at he Groom. Mary just smiles and presses a kiss to her new husbands cheek.  
"And wasn't it brilliant darling." She smiles and John sighs before turning away from his best friend and the dominatrix.  
"Mycroft is going to have a field day." He mutters and shakes his head.  
Mary nods at Sherlock and then at Irene. "I'm Mary." She outstretches her hand to Irene and Irene takes it in surprise.  
"Irene."  
"Well it's lovely meeting you Irene, please excuse my husbands behaviour it's been a long day."  
Irene smirks and nods. "Congratulations."  
"Thank you." Mary beams before excusing herself to go calm her husband down.  
"Is say he took that quite well." Sherlock notes and Irene sniggers.  
"Much better than I heard he took your resurrection."  
Sherlock raises an eyebrow, questioning how she knew that but nods in confirmation. "Definitely so."  
"Now to scar to the good doctor some more I think." Irene muses and Sherlock doesn't even have time to process the meaning of her words before he feels her lips crash onto his own. It takes less than a second for Sherlock to reciprocate and deepen it. It was no use hiding Irene anymore, she was right. She was never meant to be caged. She'd come back and misbehave at always the most inappropriate moment and Sherlock had to accept that that was who the Woman was.  
___

That night, the newly we'd couple weren't the only ones to have an enjoyable night. It hadn't been long after the revelation of Irene's survival that Sherlock had almost dragged The Woman to a taxi and back to Baker Street. It had been nearly a year since they'd last been this close to one another and although Sherlock would never verbally admit it, primal lust ringing throughout his body meant that he was craving her milky smooth skin. 

Although they’d left the wedding early, they hadn’t exactly been in a position to sleep until well after midnight. Sherlock didn’t need that much sleep, but Irene did and she was not happy to be rudely awoken in the early morning due to Sherlock’s phone ringing. Sherlock woke up first, halfway through the initial rings to find The Woman in his arms; he unwrapped one of his arms from her and groped the side table next to him to end the call. However, it wouldn’t stop ringing, the caller certainly was persistent. The fourth call woke Irene up and her voice was riddled with sleep and annoyance when she demands him to ‘Answer it.’ Before rolling away from him and burying her head underneath the covers in a bid to get some more sleep.  
Sherlock rolls his eyes but picks up the phone nonetheless and finally presses the green button on the phone instead of hanging up.  
“Yes.” He says rudely.  
“Sherlock, what is the meaning of this!” It was Mycroft on the phone, speaking so loudly that even Irene can hear it, despite the phone being pressed against Sherlock’s ear.  
Irene smirks to herself, suddenly awake and alert. “Oh Sherlock.” She moans, throwing back the sheets and rolling toward the Detective. “Sherlock.” She groans again, shifting herself upwards to get closer to the phone.  
Sherlock attempted to push Irene away from the speaker in order to hear what his brother is saying, but soon Irene is straddling him, rocking her hips against his naked stomach causing Sherlock to involuntarily groan.  
“Woman.” He growled, dropping the phone to the floor, leaving Mycroft to either hand up or hear for himself his brother and the supposedly dead dominatrix going at it. He’d been phoning to confirm the rumours that Irene was alive and had been at the wedding last night.  
“I think.” Irene whimpers in between kisses. “That that is all the evidence he needs to confirm my existence.”


End file.
